All Those Knowing Hours Which Passed Between Us All those knowing hours which passed between us Are gone. No new dawn can make them Pass again between us. Do not worry, though, if those hours are frozen, Composed in cement: they are still ours. Talking in silence of moonsoft things We shall always be beautiful. What matter if now, alone, my hand touches Only cold stone and cannot make it stir? What matter if we were not ever Whoever we thought we were?